gillo
in
still_grrr
Pompt 190 - fic. A Teacher Taught
Title: A Teacher Taught
Author: gillo
Rating G:
Word Count: 1,219
Prompt 1990 - free-for-all, "Teacher".
Characters/Pairing (if any) Giles, Willow, Buffy, Spike
A/N: Sooner or later, even a librarian has to crumble in the face of the white heat of technology.
Resolve-face firmly established, Willow towed Giles away from his breakfast bar and towards the table. He shuddered but stumbled behind her.
“Sit. Now.”
“I am nobody’s dog, Mrs Woodhouse and I do not respond to command.”
Spike barked a laugh as the girls wrinkled their faces in confusion. “So. Now we know what thrilling stuff young Watchers are encouraged to see. Training manuals, Rupert? What else? One Man Shags His Dog?”
“Shut up, Spike”. Three voices at once.
“Now, Giles,” Buffy eased the chair away from the table, “This really doesn’t hurt, you know. And now we’re living in the dorm, you can’t rely on Willow always being here to do it for you.”
“I still fail to see why I need it at all. I have said many times - knowledge belongs in books. Somewhere tangible. Not as pixies on a screen.”
Three individuals choked back a snigger.
“Many years ago now I said it, and I’ll say it again. I simply don't adhere to a, a knee-jerk assumption that because something is new, it's better.”
“All very well, but it isn’t exactly new any more. Hotmail’s been around since before we were in high school, and AOL started before we were in kindergarten.”
Spike rolled his eyes. “Easy to forget just how young your little bits of stuff are, isn’t it, Rupert? They think ’96 was a long time ago. Bet you remember it as well as I do - the old Queen on the throne, the year before her Jubilee, internal combustion the latest thing…”
“Shut up, Spike” Willow repeated automatically.
Buffy took a moment, worked out what “bits of stuff” implied and made a revolted “eeuw”.
Giles glared at the vampire, “They meant 1996, as you know full well. I suggest for your own good that you remain quiet from now on, or I might be tempted to ask Buffy to deal with an annoying soon-to-be-dust problem.”
The scarred eyebrow lifted as the trademark smirk appeared, but Spike closed his lips firmly.
“Now, Willow, since you have this infernal machine plugged in, what do you want me to do with it?”
The light of imminent dissemination of knowledge illuminated Willow’s face. “First thing, is hook the modem up to the telephone line. You do have a telephone, right?” Giles pointed wordlessly. “Buffy, would you mind?”
As Buffy connected the laptop to the outside line, Willow drew up another chair and turned her laptop screen towards the Watcher. “Here we are. Lucky I have my own browser installed. Now, you’ll need a logon and a password. What do you want to use?”
Truly bewildered now, Giles shook his head. He lacked the faintest idea what these terms meant.
“OK, I see you’re not so much with the inspiration here. Howsabout I choose for you? You can piggyback on my AOL account, so we just need a username for you.”
“Oook,” came a mutter from the corner. Another glare from Giles.
Buffy, more patient than Willow and more aware of the vast gulfs of ignorance that really could exist, murmured an explanation, “You need a name to go under, and a code-word so everyone can’t read your mail.”
“Ah. Like “Malcolm”, you mean?”
Willow’s turn to scowl now. “It’s not fair to bring that up after so many years. I was very young then, and things are a lot safer now. Passwords can keep you really secure.”
“Um. I need a name that’s not mine, is that it? Would ‘Librarian’ do?”
“Yes, that’s just about as exciting as you can manage, I’ll wager.”
The ritual instruction was repeated. “Shut up, Spike.”
“Yes, that will do fine. Now, shall we hook you up to YahooMail or Hotmail? They’re both free, so it’s your choice.”
Now this was a reference Giles could actually recognise and respond to. “In view of our unwelcome and distressingly voluble guest, I think Yahoo would be appropriate, don’t you?”
His chuckle, punctuated by an outraged “Hey!” from Spike, had no effect whatever on the rest of his audience. He sighed. He really wasn’t going to start explaining Swift at this juncture. He winced and, horrified, glimpsed a look of fellow-feeling on Spike’s face.
“Never mind. Yahoo it is. Now, what is this password thing?”
Willow explained the need for a password known only to Giles, “And, um, I thuink I’d better know it too, in case you forget. Nobody else, though. Write it down for me here. At least six letters long and something hard to guess.”
Giles cogitated briefly, then scribbled down on his message pad. Willow tore off the paper and settled down to establish an email account. Spike watched with interest.
Shortly thereafter she presented the laptop to Giles, keyboard toward him. “Here you are - it’s all yours. Now, who do you want to email? What’s his address?”
“47 Baker Crescent, Islington.”
“No, silly. His email address. You need that or you can’t send a message.”
“Ah.” Giles cleared his throat uncomfortable. “She did put it at the end of her last letter. I believe I have it in my wallet - yes, here it is.”
She? Several eyebrows went up at this.
Willow took the carefully-folded sheet and copied the address onto the screen. “Right - it’s all set up. Now all you have to do is type into that box. See? I’ve set the cursor there for you already.”
Giles’s face was a perfect portrait of embarrassment and confusion. After a deep breath, however, he started to type and before long was ready to send.
“Now, how you gonna send that without Red knowing all your business, Rupie-boy? Never thought of that, did you?”
Willow hastened to reassure a crimson-faced Giles. “I won’t read, I promise. Just put your finger there and move it - see how the little arrow moves too?”
She babbled on, never happier than when she explained technology to newbies. Before long the challenging task was at last finished. All three mortals sighed in relief. Spike lounged back and watched as the little farewell rituals began. As the girls walked to the door, chattering happily, he inched his way over to the notepad and pocketed it.
“OK, we’ve got to get back to the dorm now, but we’ll swing by tomorrow afternoon and see if you have any replies.”
“I should say thank you, I suppose. If only for putting up with a technophobe like me. It’s very good of you, Willow.”
“Think no more of it. Bye, Giles!”
The girls left. Giles strode across the room. Tea was a necessity.
“Cuppa tea again, Watcher? Gawd you’re so predictable.”
This earned Spike his last “Shut up!” of the evening. Before long he was alone, as Giles took his cup that cheered to bed with him.
Five minutes with a soft pencil, gently rubbed on the impression on the paper gave Spike what he wanted. He knew the name and the password. Giles might be a technological dinosaur, but why everyone assumed the vampire who had put the Judge together was too was anybody’s guess.
Next time he was alone with a computer couldn’t be too far off. And then - Yahoo indeed! - there were catalogues to be ordered, Usenet groups to join, Russian brides to order.
Giles was going to have his worst fears confirmed. In the most enjoyable possible way.
Author: gillo
Rating G:
Word Count: 1,219
Prompt 1990 - free-for-all, "Teacher".
Characters/Pairing (if any) Giles, Willow, Buffy, Spike
A/N: Sooner or later, even a librarian has to crumble in the face of the white heat of technology.
Resolve-face firmly established, Willow towed Giles away from his breakfast bar and towards the table. He shuddered but stumbled behind her.
“Sit. Now.”
“I am nobody’s dog, Mrs Woodhouse and I do not respond to command.”
Spike barked a laugh as the girls wrinkled their faces in confusion. “So. Now we know what thrilling stuff young Watchers are encouraged to see. Training manuals, Rupert? What else? One Man Shags His Dog?”
“Shut up, Spike”. Three voices at once.
“Now, Giles,” Buffy eased the chair away from the table, “This really doesn’t hurt, you know. And now we’re living in the dorm, you can’t rely on Willow always being here to do it for you.”
“I still fail to see why I need it at all. I have said many times - knowledge belongs in books. Somewhere tangible. Not as pixies on a screen.”
Three individuals choked back a snigger.
“Many years ago now I said it, and I’ll say it again. I simply don't adhere to a, a knee-jerk assumption that because something is new, it's better.”
“All very well, but it isn’t exactly new any more. Hotmail’s been around since before we were in high school, and AOL started before we were in kindergarten.”
Spike rolled his eyes. “Easy to forget just how young your little bits of stuff are, isn’t it, Rupert? They think ’96 was a long time ago. Bet you remember it as well as I do - the old Queen on the throne, the year before her Jubilee, internal combustion the latest thing…”
“Shut up, Spike” Willow repeated automatically.
Buffy took a moment, worked out what “bits of stuff” implied and made a revolted “eeuw”.
Giles glared at the vampire, “They meant 1996, as you know full well. I suggest for your own good that you remain quiet from now on, or I might be tempted to ask Buffy to deal with an annoying soon-to-be-dust problem.”
The scarred eyebrow lifted as the trademark smirk appeared, but Spike closed his lips firmly.
“Now, Willow, since you have this infernal machine plugged in, what do you want me to do with it?”
The light of imminent dissemination of knowledge illuminated Willow’s face. “First thing, is hook the modem up to the telephone line. You do have a telephone, right?” Giles pointed wordlessly. “Buffy, would you mind?”
As Buffy connected the laptop to the outside line, Willow drew up another chair and turned her laptop screen towards the Watcher. “Here we are. Lucky I have my own browser installed. Now, you’ll need a logon and a password. What do you want to use?”
Truly bewildered now, Giles shook his head. He lacked the faintest idea what these terms meant.
“OK, I see you’re not so much with the inspiration here. Howsabout I choose for you? You can piggyback on my AOL account, so we just need a username for you.”
“Oook,” came a mutter from the corner. Another glare from Giles.
Buffy, more patient than Willow and more aware of the vast gulfs of ignorance that really could exist, murmured an explanation, “You need a name to go under, and a code-word so everyone can’t read your mail.”
“Ah. Like “Malcolm”, you mean?”
Willow’s turn to scowl now. “It’s not fair to bring that up after so many years. I was very young then, and things are a lot safer now. Passwords can keep you really secure.”
“Um. I need a name that’s not mine, is that it? Would ‘Librarian’ do?”
“Yes, that’s just about as exciting as you can manage, I’ll wager.”
The ritual instruction was repeated. “Shut up, Spike.”
“Yes, that will do fine. Now, shall we hook you up to YahooMail or Hotmail? They’re both free, so it’s your choice.”
Now this was a reference Giles could actually recognise and respond to. “In view of our unwelcome and distressingly voluble guest, I think Yahoo would be appropriate, don’t you?”
His chuckle, punctuated by an outraged “Hey!” from Spike, had no effect whatever on the rest of his audience. He sighed. He really wasn’t going to start explaining Swift at this juncture. He winced and, horrified, glimpsed a look of fellow-feeling on Spike’s face.
“Never mind. Yahoo it is. Now, what is this password thing?”
Willow explained the need for a password known only to Giles, “And, um, I thuink I’d better know it too, in case you forget. Nobody else, though. Write it down for me here. At least six letters long and something hard to guess.”
Giles cogitated briefly, then scribbled down on his message pad. Willow tore off the paper and settled down to establish an email account. Spike watched with interest.
Shortly thereafter she presented the laptop to Giles, keyboard toward him. “Here you are - it’s all yours. Now, who do you want to email? What’s his address?”
“47 Baker Crescent, Islington.”
“No, silly. His email address. You need that or you can’t send a message.”
“Ah.” Giles cleared his throat uncomfortable. “She did put it at the end of her last letter. I believe I have it in my wallet - yes, here it is.”
She? Several eyebrows went up at this.
Willow took the carefully-folded sheet and copied the address onto the screen. “Right - it’s all set up. Now all you have to do is type into that box. See? I’ve set the cursor there for you already.”
Giles’s face was a perfect portrait of embarrassment and confusion. After a deep breath, however, he started to type and before long was ready to send.
“Now, how you gonna send that without Red knowing all your business, Rupie-boy? Never thought of that, did you?”
Willow hastened to reassure a crimson-faced Giles. “I won’t read, I promise. Just put your finger there and move it - see how the little arrow moves too?”
She babbled on, never happier than when she explained technology to newbies. Before long the challenging task was at last finished. All three mortals sighed in relief. Spike lounged back and watched as the little farewell rituals began. As the girls walked to the door, chattering happily, he inched his way over to the notepad and pocketed it.
“OK, we’ve got to get back to the dorm now, but we’ll swing by tomorrow afternoon and see if you have any replies.”
“I should say thank you, I suppose. If only for putting up with a technophobe like me. It’s very good of you, Willow.”
“Think no more of it. Bye, Giles!”
The girls left. Giles strode across the room. Tea was a necessity.
“Cuppa tea again, Watcher? Gawd you’re so predictable.”
This earned Spike his last “Shut up!” of the evening. Before long he was alone, as Giles took his cup that cheered to bed with him.
Five minutes with a soft pencil, gently rubbed on the impression on the paper gave Spike what he wanted. He knew the name and the password. Giles might be a technological dinosaur, but why everyone assumed the vampire who had put the Judge together was too was anybody’s guess.
Next time he was alone with a computer couldn’t be too far off. And then - Yahoo indeed! - there were catalogues to be ordered, Usenet groups to join, Russian brides to order.
Giles was going to have his worst fears confirmed. In the most enjoyable possible way.